


For Auld Lang Syne

by Bizarra



Series: For Auld Lang Syne [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Did I mention fluff?, F/M, Fluff, Post-Endgame, Sappy Ending, Secret Santa, a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28301283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bizarra/pseuds/Bizarra
Summary: Janeway and Chakotay remember something they'd forgotten.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Series: For Auld Lang Syne [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073750
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	For Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saramannon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Saramannon).



> Merry Christmas to Saramannon! I hope you enjoy this!!

_We two have paddled in the burn,_  
_from morning sun till dine;_  
_But the seas between us broad have roared_  
_since auld lang syne._

_And there's a hand my trusty friend!_  
_And give me a hand o' thine!_  
_And we'll take a right good-will draught,_  
_for auld lang syne._

_For auld lang syne, my dear,_  
_for auld lang syne,_  
_we'll take a cup of kindness yet,_  
_for auld lang syne._

_ Poem written by Robert Burns _  
_ Version Sung by Celtic Women _  
_ Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. _

For the JC Corner 2020 Secret Santa exchange. This was my prompt, Hope you love it, Saramannon! "my request is a post-end game fix-it fic with JC getting together around Christmas. No pregnancy or full on smut. Some angst is good. Has to be a happy ending."

Note: Caoimhe MacCléirich is pronounced “KEE-va MacClery”  
—

 _Voyager_ had burst into the Alpha Quadrant on December twentieth; their arrival just four days before Christmas Eve could have been scripted in one of those sappy holovids that Phoebe admitted to secretly loving. Kathryn rolled her eyes as she set aside a PADD detailing her schedule for the next few weeks. Starfleet had given them two weeks of freedom to spend the holidays with their families, but the week after the new year, it was on to debriefing.

Thankfully, there had been no need to worry about her crew; the Maquis had been pardoned, the _Equinox_ crew had been discharged with their service on _Voyager_ considered time served. She had been told that since Starfleet had already gone over the logs from previous data streams, debriefing would be more of an overview of the mission at large and repatriation assistance.

 _Voyager’s_ illustrious, and if she were honest, disillusioned captain stood to refill her coffee. Once that was accomplished, she moved to the large window that opened toward the San Francisco Bay; the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, a shining reminder of her accomplishment. She shivered, despite the warmth of the cup in her hand. Home. They were home. 

So why did she feel so utterly and completely lost?

She heaved a great sigh and turned to pack a quick bag so she could transport to Indiana for the next week. Not that she didn’t want to be with her family for the first Christmas in seven years. She just… it felt as though she were spending Christmas with the wrong family. Kathryn slipped her toiletries into the duffle and turned to leave the bedroom when she heard something drop.

Turning to see what it was, Kathryn froze. The strap slipped from her shoulder.

When had she set that on her dresser? And why? The stasis box had broken, the preserved peace rose inside had lost the petals as it impacted with the floor. Kathryn sank to her knees among the debris and couldn’t stop the whimper that wrenched itself from her throat. She huddled over the physical manifestation of the wreckage of the most significant relationship she’d ever had and cried heaving wracking sobs. For the loss of Chakotay. Of Mark. Of Admiral Janeway. Of Joe Carey and those who died on her watch. For the guilt of trapping one hundred fifty people seventy-five years from home and destroying their lives in the process. For the loss of Kathryn herself.

The beeping of the comms terminal crept into her consciousness and Kathryn opened her eyes. She was momentarily disoriented to find herself curled around the duffle bag on her floor. She felt pain as her hand brushed through broken shards of clear casing and she remembered. She’d apparently cried herself to sleep. The terminal beeped again and Kathryn moved to get up. She glanced at the chronometer on the desk and realized it had been a couple hours. _Damn;_ that meant the caller was likely her mother wondering where she was.

Kathryn patted her hair into some sort of order and opened the channel. Gretchen’s worried face popped up. “Kathryn, dear, are you alright? I was worried when you didn’t arrive on time.” 

“I’m fine.” Kathryn sat and tried to act as fine as she claimed to be.

“You are not fine, my Katie girl.” The older woman’s voice softened. “Do you want me to come to you?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I just slept longer than I intended to. I’ll be there soon.”

Gretchen Janeway regarded her with a look, and Kathryn knew her mother didn’t buy the excuse one bit. There had been a time when Chakotay wouldn’t have either. She sighed and swallowed back the tightening of her throat. “I’m just a little emotional right now, Mom. Suddenly being home is a big change.” Kathryn wiped away a persistent tear. “I’ll be fine as soon as I get a plate of your caramel brownies.” She gave her mother a smile.

“Well, you get here soon, baby, and I’ll have a plate and a cold glass of milk waiting for you.” The older woman finger-pressed a kiss to the screen and closed the channel.

Kathryn sat back and glanced down at the mess on the floor. She’d kept herself distant and aloof. She really should have known she’d be alone when they got home.

Deciding to clean up after she got back, Kathryn grabbed her bag and quickly left the Starfleet issued apartment that felt more like a prison. She really needed to be within the breast of her family and wasted no more time getting there.

—

The occupant of the apartment three doors down was sitting on his couch staring at the cargo crates in the middle of his living room. He sighed. How had seven years of his life condensed down to just two boxes? Chakotay stood and ordered a hot tea before opening a crate. 

He’d put it off as long as he could, but the need to feel settled outweighed the want to avoid the memories attached to the items inside. The first crate carried clothing, blankets, and other practical belongings. Chakotay lifted the hangers and shook his head. His clothes were terrible. B’Elanna joked that he needed a woman to dress him. Chakotay smiled at the thought of his good friend. He should take her up on the comment and get her opinion on new clothes. 

He grabbed his mother’s blanket next and immediately a vivid memory came forth. He remembered wrapping Kathryn tightly when she’d been chilled and feverish from that virus she’d gotten on Datria IV. Since then it had become ‘her’ blanket to curl into when they settled on the couch to relax after dinner. Chakotay pressed his nose into the soft wool and was surprised to catch her scent mingled with his. The symbolism of it struck him so hard it was as if his mother had reached from the spirit world and thumped him on the head.

His eyes closed to the unexpected tears. How had they gone wrong? He’d tried so hard to wait. To help carry her burdens. But the last couple years had been hard on them. Kathryn had disappeared further and further into the Captain as time went on so that, in the end, even he couldn’t find the woman he loved.

He had tried to move on, but his brief liaison with Seven did nothing to excise Kathryn Janeway from his heart. Chakotay took another drink of tea as he set aside the blanket. When he’d last seen Seven, just before she’d gone to Sweden with her aunt, the young woman had told him to follow his heart.

He eyed the folded wool again and thought maybe that was what he would do. Maybe he could give Kathryn the blanket for Christmas. He knew she’d be in Indiana, so he made a spontaneous decision to go there. He just hoped that she wouldn’t mind the interruption. 

Once his decision was made, Chakotay replicated a box and wrapping paper. When ready, he left his apartment and headed for the Officer’s transport hub at Headquarters and hoped beyond hope that Kathryn would at least see him.

—

It was early evening in Bloomington, Indiana when Chakotay knocked on the Janeway farmhouse door. Gretchen Janeway, who was dressed rather formally, answered it, as if she were on the way out. “Oh! Mister Chakotay, isn’t it?”

He smiled and dipped his head in greeting, “It’s just Chakotay, ma’am.”

The older woman, who was very much like Kathryn, gave his arm a humored pat. “I’ll remember that, as long as you remember it’s ‘Gretchen’ and not ‘Ma’am’.”

He followed her in as she gestured. “You’re on your way out. I’m intruding.”

“You aren’t intruding.” Gretchen said as she moved deeper into the house. “Kathryn isn’t here, though. She’s in Ireland with Phoebe.”

“Oh.” He tried to hide his disappointment. “I had a gift for Kathryn.” He lifted the box. “I can just leave it here and talk to her tomorrow.” He met grey eyes that were similar to those he knew so well and found her regarding him with a look he also knew well.

“Chakotay. Would you escort an old lady to her daughter-in-law’s Christmas concert in Galway?” Kathryn’s mother asked with all the subtlety of The Doctor.

He gestured toward her, “I seem to be underdressed.” He glanced down at his pair of black pants and white pullover.

Gretchen nodded toward a household replicator. “You can use that to replicate a tuxedo if you’d like. It’s fully charged.” She told him in a tone that brooked no objections. “I’ll have a cup of coffee while you get ready.”

Within twenty minutes, Chakotay had showered and was dressed and ready to go. The silver-haired woman stepped up to him, handed him the gift box he’d brought, and smiled. She reached to straighten the bow tie he wore. The older woman gave his chest a quick pat in an achingly familiar way. “You look very dapper, Chakotay.” Her eyes took on a mischievous glint. “It’s been a long time since I had a handsome man on my arm.” 

—

Kathryn crossed her legs and read through the program booklet she held. She glanced at the stage below and in front of her. Clearly, being the family of the main performer got a person damned good seating. The private four seat box was at House Left and close enough to practically touch the orchestra.

Phoebe had left her alone to find their mother, who’d insisted on arriving separately. She glanced around at the slowly filling theatre and wondered just how famous a singer her sister’s wife was. Phoebe had promised that she’d finally get to meet the illusive Caoimhe MacCléirich after the concert.

A sudden sense of being watched raised the hairs on the back of Kathryn’s neck and she turned. With an intake of breath, she stood. “Chakotay!” Her stomach did a flip, and she fought the instinct to run into his arms. Instead, she clasped her hands together. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m… your mother is in the lobby.” He tugged on his ear. Kathryn’s breath hitched at the endearing nervous tick. “She said she needed an escort.”

Kathryn’s smile widened, “did you honestly buy that?” She blinked away the gathering wetness in her eyes and felt a tear escape.

Chakotay lightly laughed and bowed his head. “Not really.” He looked up and his eyes met hers. He stepped forward and held out the gift box. “I wanted to give you this.”

“You didn’t have to…” she took the box and sat, patting the empty chair next to her. Kathryn lay the box in her lap and carefully unwrapped the paper, so as not to make a mess. She lifted the lid and drew in a breath as she recognized the blanket inside. “Oh, Chakotay…” She pulled the thick soft material out and clutched it to her chest. Some of her best memories on Voyager were the evenings she spent wrapped in that very blanket and simply talking stuff and nonsense with her best friend.

“I started unpacking this morning, and when I pulled that from my crate, I remembered how much you liked it.” Chakotay told her. “I wanted you to have it.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and reached to squeeze his hand, “I will treasure this, always.”

“Did I ever mention that my mother made it for me?” Chakotay explained as he took the box and paper, putting them on the floor beneath the seats. Kathryn shook her head no, and he smiled. “It is a tradition among my tribe for mothers to make blankets for their sons when they come of age.”

Kathryn looked at the patterns and vivid colors on the blanket with fresh eyes. “She did beautiful work. I would have never guessed this was handmade.”

“Thank you.” Chakotay drifted his fingers through the tasseled end that lay on the arm between the two chairs. “It’s the only thing I have left from her.”

Kathryn noticed the emotion in his face and felt a heaviness in her chest. “I can’t accept this.” She whispered heavily. “You should really keep it.”

Chakotay lifted the material and brought it to his nose. “What do you smell?”

With a questioning glance, Kathryn followed his lead. The scent was unmistakable. She met his eyes, “us.” She glanced back at the fabric in her hands. “And Voyager.” It smelled like home.

He nodded. “It was a tradition in my tribe for a son to share the blanket that his mother made with his mate and eventually make it a part of their marriage bed.” He lightly shook the thick wool, “Kathryn, we’ve been sharing this blanket for years and I only realized that this morning when I unpacked it.”

She closed her eyes to tears that she would have thought had run dry hours before. Her voice cracked as she spoke, “well, who am I to buck a tradition?” 

A stifled cry caught in Chakotay’s throat as he lay his hand over hers, “my mother would have dearly loved you.” His misty eyes met hers. “As I do. As I have for so long, I don’t remember not loving you.”

Kathryn cast her gaze downward, staring at their joined hands. She blinked away the encroaching wetness. “What about Seven,” she breathed.

She felt him tighten the hold on her hand, “trying to move on from you was, as Seven would say, futile.” He huffed a laugh that was more of a whimper. “We didn’t even make it off the ship. I think she knew; I’m sure they all knew.”

Kathryn too laughed through the wavy damp vision. “I’m pretty sure they did.” She wiped her eyes. “I’ve cried more today than I did in the last seven years.” She looked up at him. “I dropped your rose today.” Her breath hitched as she clarified, “the rose you gave me that day I nearly died. The stasis container broke on impact and the bloom fell to pieces.” She heaved a deep breath. “It was as if the floodgates opened and I cried over everything.”

His arm snaked around her and she let him pull her close. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” He told her. “I promised I would be, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“You’re here now.” she quietly told him as she lay her head comfortably on his shoulder. They sat quietly for a moment, watching the stage as the musicians took their places. “Chakotay?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.”

She felt him press a kiss atop her head and smiled. After one more moment of the chair arm digging into her side, Kathryn sat just enough to pull the offending part up, then snuggled back into his arms. She spread the blanket across both their laps as the house lights darkened. She heard her mother and Phoebe take their own seats and briefly acknowledged them before the show started.


End file.
